


You're Nobody 'Til Somebody Loves You

by ScooterSister



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: F/M, Fire, Friendship, Loss, One Shot, Pre-Game(s), Sadness, Sex, Weddings, booze
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-09 01:44:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3231545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScooterSister/pseuds/ScooterSister
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the evening of Michael and Amanda's wedding and their best friends are not terribly pleased with the state of affairs. So they drink and set a dress on fire. And then they set the night on fire. (Oof, I know, sorry). One-shot. The title comes from a song that I've heard at way too many freaking weddings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're Nobody 'Til Somebody Loves You

**Author's Note:**

> So, I started working on a pre-game uni story set in North Yankton a couple of months back and then abandoned it because I was busy. And then I re-read what I had and was totally unhappy with it and decided to scrap it. But I wrote this one chapter that I kind of liked, so I'm posting it as a one-shot. Basically, Trevor and Amanda's best friend get together for some mutual lamenting of their respective best friends' nuptials just after the wedding. I know that it might be kind of weird reading it without the rest of the story, but I think that it's self-contained enough to make sense. If you think otherwise, do tell me in the comments. I just felt like posting something while I sort my shit enough to finish my other story that is still in progress. Loves!  
> *I do not own any of the Grand Theft Auto V characters. They belong to Rockstar.

Lucie was crouched in the coat closet of the reception hall clutching a bottle of champagne. Her shoes were off and the gathered skirt of the hideous powder blue bridesmaid dress was ripped. Thank fuck she hadn't paid for it. She had only made it about a quarter of the way through the bottle when the door to the closet opened. She looked up and there Trevor stood in his tux. He'd pulled the tie off and was now clutching the jacket in one of his fists. He looked down at Lucie and chuckled before he crouched down next to her.

“You look about as good as I feel,” he quipped.

Lucie shook her head at him. “Thanks! That's just what I needed to hear,” she said.

He groaned at her. “Oh, fuck off. I'm talking about the long face, it wasn't a crack about your looks. You _know_ I think you're pretty. For a kid, I mean,” he said grinning at her.

She rolled her eyes at him. She wasn't a kid anymore. Just because she was acting like one did not make her one. “Stop trying to make me feel better,” she said, scooting backward into a row of coats hanging from a rack behind her. She felt Trevor pull her out by her ankles. “Ow,” she whined at the new rug burn on her ass.

“Shut up,” he laughed.

He crossed his arms and looked at her like he was judging her, like he was dissecting her there in her dress, with her posture, her hair that she had pulled out from her up-do and tousled until she felt like herself again, hanging in tendrils over her face. She smoothed it down now, suddenly feeling vulnerable.She looked up at him. _“You_ shut up,” she said not bothering to hide her smile. She leaned back on the heel of one hand as she took a swig of the champagne.

Trevor looked down at her waist and stuck his finger in the tear in her dress. She yelped at the tickling sensation, which made him cackle maniacally. “Wasn't there a big bow there a half an hour ago?”

Lucie twisted her face into a crooked smile as she looked up to meet his gaze. She reached under the row of coats and pulled out the bow by the frayed silk threads on the back of it. She dangled at him. “You mean _this_ bow?” she said impishly before tossing it past him. He was grinning at her. She thought that he looked handsome, but she wasn't going to tell him so.

He put his tux jacket over his shoulder and peered into her. “What are you doing in here, you silly fuckin' chick?”

“What are _you_ doing in here, you shameless fuckin' brute?”

“I came looking for you,” he said with a straight face.

“Why?”

“Because you've been staring at Michael like you wanna gouge his eyes out all night. You're so wrapped up in your own selfish bullshit that you didn't even tell me how pretty I look.”

Lucie threw her head back and cackled at him and watched his face light up as she did. He always looked so delighted when she laughed, provided that it wasn't at his expense. She got up on her knees then and grabbed him by the face. “Trevor, my dear. You look good enough to _torture,”_ she said.

“Promises, promises, Luce,” he said through the mouth that was comically scrunched up in her hand.

She let go of his face, but didn't break eye contact as she laughed. “I'm glad you're here,” she told him earnestly.

Trevor snorted. “Well, don't expect me to stay in here with you. I _actually_ came to get you so we could get the fuck out of here and get some real booze,” he said, tipping the bottom of the champagne bottle with his fingers, spilling some on the floor.

 _“Fuck!”_ Lucie laughed before she looked at him again. “And then what?”

They were still on their knees, facing each other. “And then what _what?”_

Lucie narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you going to ruin me the way that Michael is ruining Amanda?”

His face fell, eyes narrowed as he leaned closer to her. “Stop,” he said seriously now. He pointed his finger in her face. “We were having a nice time. Don't fuck it up by bringing up those two.”

“That doesn't give us much to talk about then, does it?” she asked somewhat caustically.

“How about we talk about how much I wanna smack your pretty little face sometimes?”

Lucie glared at him. “You wouldn't hit me.”

“Not unless you asked me to.” They were on fire right now. Both of them were miserable. Both of them were losing their best friends to the hideous travesty that was marriage. Lucie wished that someone would walk in on them just then, but she couldn't tell if it was because she wanted out of there or if she just wanted someone to witness them in there, doing whatever it was that they were doing, to show off their playful misery to an objective third party.

“I wanna set something on fire,” she said to him then, staring at his chest.

He licked his lips and gazed down at her. “Mmm, baby's a little arsonist, huh? What do you wanna burn? Tell me,” he said, not bothering to cover the rising fervor in his voice.

Lucie took another drink from her bottle before she set it down and looked back up at him. “I want to burn this disgusting dress,” she whispered at him, rising back up to her knees.

Trevor was tugging at the leg of his pants. “Okay, kid...I'll tell you what we're gonna do. We're going to get out of here. Nobody'll notice 'cause everyone's already tanked,” he said, both of them laughing. “We're going to get in my car and go get a bottle and then we're going to go out to the field behind the grain elevator and you and me are gonna torch that fucking dress.”

Lucie leaned in toward his face. “Promises, promises, Trev,” she said.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “You think I'm fucking bluffing, you little minx?”

Lucie cocked an eyebrow at him. “Umm...”

“Where's your coat?”

Lucie looked over to where her long, wool winter coat was hanging and pointed. “The red one,” she said.

Trevor shot up and grabbed it before walking back over to her and pulling her up gently by her arm. He led her out of the closet with his hand on her back.

They walked through the halls of the reception hall under the harsh lights, drawing stares from the little groups of people that littered the halls in their tacky formal dress. Lucie could tell that she was being silently judged by these people, looking at her disheveled hair and ripped dress, making inferences about what she had been doing. It was a bit ridiculous that she was drawing so much ire given the fact that she wasn't even drunk yet.

Finally, they reached the double doors at the front of the hall. Trevor draped her coat over her shoulders and they strode out into the night. Being late winter, it was still balls cold, but it wasn't wet, at least. They got into his car and he started it up. Lucie shivered and Trevor turned to face her. He looked over and looked at her with a stern face. _Goodness, he looked handsome._

“Hey, you sure you're up to this? You're going to lose another layer of clothing, ya know.”

“Yes, I've wrapped my mind around that. Now drive, you're ruining the spontaneity, Trev,” she replied through another shiver.

He smiled at her, shaking his head. “That'a girl,” he cooed through a devilish smile before they peeled out of the parking lot.

 

...............................

 

“Take another drink. It'll warm you up.”

“You trying to get me drunk, ya crazy Canuck?”

“Fuck you. I don't need to get you drunk to get you to take your clothes off, we both know _that.”_

“Fuck you right back!”

“Take a drink,” Trevor repeated.

Lucie complied, taking a swig of vodka before she peeled off her coat and offered him her back. “Unzip me,” she said, dancing in place against the cold.

“With pleasure,” he said as he stepped to her. She could feel him pulling the zipper down, the underarms of the dress releasing her shoulders from their bondage. She let the dress slip down to her ankles and she stepped out.

She pulled her jacket off the top of the car and slipped it back on, shivering against the frigidness that had traveled to the inside satin lining from the top of the car. She quickly tied the belt. Trevor kicked the dress away from them, but it was too soft and billowy for it to go far, so he cursed under his breath and picked it up, tossing it farther away.

He walked to the back of the car and pulled out a gas can and set about dousing the satin and ruffles with gasoline. He set the gas can aside and looked at Lucie. “How much hairspray are you wearing?”

“What?”

“I don't want your fucking head to catch on fire!”

“Not a lot.”

“Come here.” Lucie stepped to where he was. “You got your lighter?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she replied.

“Then bend over and light that fucking frock, baby!” he said grinning.

Lucie couldn't help herself and she grinned back at him before she crouched down and pulled her lighter out of her pocket. As she ignited the dress, Trevor pulled her up by the collar and she yelped before she began to laugh. The two of them watched the dress contort and curl into an unrecognizable heap.

“Wow, there were a lot of synthetic fibers in that thing,” Lucie observed, staring intrigued at what had started to look like melted plastic. She looked over at Trevor then, who was staring down at her. She let her eyes fall to his mouth, to that scar on his upper lip before she met his eyes again. “What?” she asked. He just looked at her with would have been his typical angry face if it hadn't been wearing a thin layer of sheepishness. Lucie turned to face him. “You got something you wanna say?” she shot at him harshly. She didn't like how he was looking at her.

His mouth tightened and his eyes flitted up and down. “I-” he started, cutting himself off. He exhaled hard through his nose.

“Out with it, Trev,” Lucie said more softly this time.

He looked at her and was quiet for another moment. “Come home with me?” he said softly.

Lucie felt her face contort into a quizzical expression at his pleading one. “Do you want someone to come home with you or do you want me to come home with you?” she asked after a minute of quiet.

“You,” he said right away.

Lucie looked at him for another minute before she looked back at the fire, which was rapidly dying down having run out of fuel. “Okay.”

 

...............................

 

Lucie sat stealing the occasional glance in Trevor's direction and every glance added to her thought tapestry of what she hypothesized he was doing. Right now, for instance, he was shivering. And he was quiet as he drove. And he looked scared or something. The silence was making her uncomfortable. He had invited her back to his, the least he could do was say something to make her keep wanting to go with him.

She stirred uncomfortably in her seat until she looked over and saw that he was looking at her. _My God, he doesn't even look like himself. Where's the rage, the scary?_ She preferred him the usual kind of scary. He was less scary in the midst of a rage than he was being right now.

Lucie leaned her forehead against the glass of the passenger side window and watched the houses roll by, all of them small and boxy, all painted the same color. She could feel her companion's eyes on her then but she didn't want to look at him. A moment later, they pulled up to his four-plex.

He got out of the driver's side and held his hand to her, pulling her out his side with him.

He didn't look at her as they walked to his apartment, but when they did, he flicked on a table-side lamp and turned around and looked at her body, but not her face.

“Well?” she asked.

His eyes were still moving all over her and around her, too. His mouth was pursed slightly. “Uh...”

“You didn't bring me over here to watch T.V., did you?”

“I-”

“I thought you wanted me here with you...”

“I do...”

“Then why are you looking at me like I just poisoned your dog?”

One of his hands was on his hip now. She had never seen him do that before. “I...I'm afraid that you'll leave,” he said.

Lucie raised her eyebrows at him. “Trev, we haven't even done anything yet.”

He glared at her now, letting a little of that _anger_ come to his eyes. “I'm afraid that if we do, you'll just leave after.”

Lucie rubbed her forehead, now. She had never seen him so vulnerable and, while it was a little bit sexy on him, she was a little pissed off at the prospect that she was acting as some kind of stand-in for Michael or something. “Is this about...Is this about today?” she asked, summoning all the patience that she could muster.

Trevor scowled at her. “No, it's not about today,” he spat. “I already told you that!”

“Then why are you being like this?”

“Because,” he yelled, pacing now, “I didn't ask you on a fucking _date!_ I asked you to come home with me and you said yes! The only women that have ever done that are-”

“Whores,” she said flatly.

“I didn't say that.”

“You were going to.”

“No...”

“You think I'm a whore?”

“No!” he barked. He sighed heavily and sat down on his ratty old couch.

“So...Was this like a test? To see what kind of person I am? What I'm _really_ made of, Trevor?”

He looked up at her then, and if his eyes weren't dry, she could swear he was crying. “I...I've never...”

“Trevor, I'm sorry I disappointed you,” Lucie said placing her hand on her chest. “Really.” She scratched her nose with the back of her hand. “I like you, I do. But I don't want to be here if you think that just because I dance for guys, that I must be willing to follow just _anyone_ home. I came here because I wanted to. Not because it's my habit to go home with whoever asks like a lost puppy. Coming here was a mistake,” she laughed emptily, backing toward the door.

She turned but as soon as she got to the door, almost as if he had supernatural speed and agility, his hand was over the door. She looked over to him and saw his eyes...They were burning, but not with anger, something more like desperation was smoldering behind them.

“Don't go, Luce,” he said softly. “What I was trying to say was...the only women who have ever come home with me when I asked 'em all left as soon as it was over. I didn't say you were a-” He cut himself off and squinted. It was as though he couldn't bring himself to even say the word. Like that word would swallow them both whole if he let it pass his lips, that it would infect them, making them both whores. Fuck knows they both felt that way sometimes.

Lucie looked at him, trying to figure out just what in the fuck he wanted from her. Her fist was clenched. She half-wanted to punch him for fucking with her head. He had already ruined the spontaneity and now he had crushed the mood, too. She didn't know if they could salvage it. _She_ didn't exactly know what she was doing here, either. If she was afraid to sleep alone, or if she was horny, or if it was _him_ that she wanted to be close to in her misery. A kindred spirit. But she wasn't going to sit here all night playing this game until _he_ figured out why he had asked _her_ there in the first place. She couldn't bear that, not after the day she'd had.

“Well, this coat is really itchy so if you want me to stay, you need to fuck me so good that I won't _want_ to leave,” she said quietly.

She saw a grin threatening to work its way onto his face before he nodded at her quickly. She stood back from him while he untied the belt on her coat. When he did, she let it slip off her shoulders and he looked at her like he was looking at her for the first time, which was ridiculous to her seeing as how he'd watched her dance before, but she let herself bask in it anyway.

He stepped to her and slipped his hand between her thighs. “I wanna kiss you here,” he said in his deep, firm, smoky voice, squeezing a little bit, pulling a sigh out of her, “and after you cum I want to take you from behind.”

Lucie bit her lip. She had been wrong about the mood. “Kiss me on the mouth first...And then get to work,” she said.

Trevor pulled her in and kissed her, grinding into her, making her hot, pushing her back toward the couch. And he was a damn fine kisser too, to Lucie's surprise. He didn't give the bare-minimum, either. He savored kissing her as she did him. And the way that he looked into her eyes when he broke the kiss told her that he might not have been lying when he said that it was her that he wanted, that her company for the sake of her company alone was enough. Her. And him. Enough and so, so good for now.

 

.........................................

 

When it was over, they lay on the couch, panting and sweating and sticking to each other. They both just soaked up the space, the energy, the cruel happenstance that led to this, not bothering to look at each other. Not right away, that is.

Trevor felt the weight of Lucie's head lifting from his chest abruptly and he instinctively gripped her arms. He wasn't bullshitting when he said that he was afraid that she would take her leave of him before he wanted her to. And right now, they could have stayed in there forever, starving themselves of light and life and all the other fucks on the outside.

He dared now to look down at her and, after she glanced down to her upper arm that he was gripping, she shot him a _what the fuck are you doing look_ accompanied by an acerbic smile. He let go right away and he was pleasantly surprised that, when she stirred again, it was not to collect her scant few items of clothing and make for the door, but to scoot up closer to him.

Her pretty strawberry blonde hair was disheveled and she had a tiny streak of mascara off to the side of one of her blue eyes, but she was still the prettiest thing in the world to him just then. She tangled her legs into his and rested her chin on the back of her hand as she looked at him.

She behaved almost as if she thought that he was asleep, stroking his hair off to the side, looking at him like he wasn't looking back at her. Finally, she locked eyes with him.

“You remind me of my piano teacher when I was a little girl. Mssr. Dreyfus.” Trevor blinked at her. “When my finger position was wrong or when I missed a measure he would take my hands in his...” he lifted her hands and looked at them before slamming them down into his chest... “and smash them onto the keys.” He was stroking her face now, but she just stared back at him. “He said that if I abused something as lovely as the piano, that it could bite back. That if my little hands didn't love the piano, that the piano would break them so that they couldn't love anything else,” she said just above a whisper.

“I wouldn't do that. Put my hands on you, I mean,” he said quietly.

She tilted her head at him, rubbing her index finger along his collarbone. “I know that,” she said, smiling faintly.

“Then why do I remind you of him?” She frowned then. “Because you look at me the same way that he did sometimes. Like you're getting ready to watch me get pulled into the ground or something. Like I'm two inches tall.”

Trevor wouldn't admit it, but he knew just what she was talking about. Because sometimes, even when her thunderous laughter filled the room, she looked so tiny. Not size-wise, not in significance, but she looked dainty and delicate. She looked like prey. Especially when she was at work, when there were dozens of pairs of eyes on her. And then there were times like right now, when her eyes were slicing into him, when he thought that _she might just make all of them her prey and then dance among the fucking carcasses that were left behind._

“No, baby. You've got the world in your tiny hand,” he said.

She liked that. She tried to hide her smile, but there it was. And she pulled herself up and kissed him, slow this time, just to do it. And he flipped her on her back and he kissed her, too. He wanted to taste her again, to taste himself on her. That way, even if she decided to fuck off before he woke up, he would always have some part of her and him locked away in his sense memory.


End file.
